


Curiosity Killed A Cat; But It Came Back

by sarenka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loving an Animal, Mage Abuse and Opression (Dragon Age), Rite of Tranquility, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Slice of Life, Tranquil Mages, Tranquility Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarenka/pseuds/sarenka
Summary: One shot exploring the Tranquil, Helisma, taking care of a Skyhold cat. Eventual Tranquility reversal.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	Curiosity Killed A Cat; But It Came Back

**Author's Note:**

> Title thanks to The Galveston Daily News from 10 August 1905 that printed it as a version of "curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back". 
> 
> Any similarities to the famous Breakfast at Tiffany's scene are unintended although I am sure the scene has been stored somewhere in my mind - I have reminded myself of it when editing. 
> 
> I have always been haunted by Helisma saying how she remembered being fond of animals but couldn't remember why. I've started this one shot a year ago but it's finally done as a spur of a moment. I hope you enjoy it.

Helisma neatly arranges the pages of the report. She just finished another copy, and now she can deliver it to the Commander. Scouts rarely approach her, unless her presence is requested. Helisma doesn’t mind the walk. Walks are beneficial to one’s health and clarity of mind.

Helisma doesn’t feel much, but the idea of health and clarity of mind has its objective appeal.

The sun is shining as she walks the barricades. Soldiers avoid her. She knows it is the mark on her forehead, the brand of Tranquility. It makes many people uncomfortable, and Helisma is able to recognize that, though she is not certain why it is that bothersome to some.

Helisma is content. The walls of Skyhold are thick, her research is going forward, she eats three times a day, and she has her own bedroom at the bottom of the Tower that the Inquisition built for Skyhold mages.

She is no longer a mage, but she used to be one. She remembers the sensation of magic running through her fingers; she recalls the fire and ice during her training with Senior Enchanter.

It means nothing now.

Commander doesn’t look her in the eye. He never does. He stammers, thanking her.

It doesn’t bother Helisma.

Those days, nothing does.

* * *

She is in her bed when she first hears the cat meowing. There is a storm outside, but even the sound of thunder doesn’t muffle the volume of the meows.

Helisma opens a window. Like most Tranquil, her bedroom is at the bottom of the Tower. The rain hits her face, and she frowns, wiping off the wetness from her eyes.

The cat jumps up on the sill and then enters her quarters.

Helisma blinks.

The cat is tiny, more of a kitten than anything else. It has striped orange fur and yellowy grey eyes. Such big, wide eyes, staring at Helisma.

She remembers being fond of animals, although she doesn’t remember why.

Nonetheless, Helisma is a practical woman. Cats are beneficial, for they hunt rats and mice. Their presence is welcomed around Skyhold, and that means it is Helisma’s duty to help the cat.

She pours water in the bowl and places it on the floor.

“Cat,” she says. “You can stay.”

Helisma settles herself in her bed and closes her eyes to drift into a Fadeless dream.

“ _Meow, meow, meow, meow._ ”

She opens one eye and sees the cat lying on her legs.

“Goodnight, cat,” Helisma murmurs, remembering her manners.

* * *

The cat wants to be let out in the morning. Helisma opens the window once again. The spring has arrived in Skyhold.

She does the same thing every day. After walking up, Helisma goes to the kitchen and drinks one cup of Antivan coffee and eats two cinnamon rolls. She then proceeds to her work stations near the Skyhold library, and does research until it is time for dinner, which she takes at the canteen. Later, she comes back to work on her notes until the evening comes.

It is a meticulous work, but Helisma knows how to be meticulous and organized. She examines and investigates each sample, writing her observations in a careful manner. Her hands are steady, moving surely and with no hesitation.

Her research helps the Inquisition, and it is important. Helisma recognizes her duty to perform it, day by day, hour by hour.

The sample yields an unexpected result.

“Ha,” Helisma mutters, and a little frown appears on her forehead. There is a memory there, too.

Helisma remembers being curious. She doesn’t remember why.

* * *

The cat meows outside her window shortly after Helisma comes back to her quarters. She lets the animal in, and the kitten brushes against her legs, the fur soft and nice.

“Cat,” Helisma says.

Cats have habits, Helisma knows that. She supposes this cat has developed a habit of staying here. There are no arguments she can find against it. The animal has to sleep somewhere, so why would it not be here?

“This is your bowl now,” she instructs the cat, pouring water and placing it by the bed.

The cat meows again.

* * *

Nothing ever stays the same. Helisma knows that fact of life. There was a Circle first, then the wilderness and Redcliffe, then Haven, and now there’s Skyhold.

There was a life before the Circle, but Helisma does not remember much, except the face of a woman who had been her mother tearing up, waving Helisma goodbye.

Everyone has had a mother and a father at some point. That is a fact of life, too, not worth any deeper thought.

So why is she thinking of it right now, recalling the house and the barn, and the fat cat resting above the stove?

She could go to the kitchens after work and ask for some meat leftovers for the cat staying in her bedroom. The cat can hunt, but it has killed birds before, and birds play an important role in the ecosystem.

Helisma decides that the best course of action would be to feed the cat.

* * *

Animals have likes and dislikes, just like people.

Commander Cullen doesn’t like to look Helisma in the eyes. Ambassador Montilyet finishes every request with a smile. All creatures have habits.

Cats have their habits, too.

The cat that stays with her likes being petted and likes getting the portion of meat. It dislikes when Helisma doesn’t let it out, and it protests with vigor.

As long as it is reasonable, Helisma can accommodate the cat and its habits.

“Do you like that, cat?” She asks, caressing the cat’s flexible back as it lies on the pillow. “I suppose you do. Don’t we all like to be warm and comfortable?”

Helisma certainly does. It is a good feeling to have a private bedroom to use, and a warm and comfortable bed.

It is a good feeling to have a cat resting near her body, too.

Helisma has her own habits, but this could be a new one.

* * *

“Your cat wakes me up each morning,” an elderly mage complains. “It meows and meows and keeps us all awake.”

“It wants to hunt,” Helisma explains. “Although it’s not good for the birds.”

“So?” The man huffs.

“Birds are useful,” Helisma says. “Cats are useful, too. I wish we could tell them to only hunt rodents, not birds.”

“Andraste’s tits, you Tranquil are unbearable,” the mage sneers before his face covers in blush and he stands in front of Helisma, who watches him.

“Tranquil perform important work,” Helisma reminds him, as she does often.

“Yes, yes, you do. I am sorry, just — It’s your cat. Maybe get some yarn for the cat to play with.”

At work, there are a lot of new samples incoming from the Western Approach. It takes an entire day to analyze them, and Helisma is still not done.

What is the cat doing at the moment, she wonders?

After work, she stops at the vendors and purchases yarn - white and red.

The cat likes the yarn.

Helisma sits down with a cup of tea and watches it play, tossing it as if on the hunt.

* * *

Sometimes Helisma talks with the Inquisitor, but she rarely talks with anyone else. This time, there is Seeker Pentaghast present, and many others in the room, and they all stand in front of Helisma.

“Is my work satisfactory?” Helisma asks.

“Yes, yes,” Seeker answers. “Helisma, we have very important news for you. We have discovered that there is a way to reverse Tranquility. It has been done before.”

Helisma frowns, because she doesn’t understand how it could be possible.

“We would like to offer you a chance of having your Tranquility reversed,” the Inquisitor adds. “It has been done, but we haven’t done it. After much studying and theorizing, we believe we could perform the reversal ritual safely, although there are no guarantees. Would you like to stop being Tranquil, Helisma?”

“Would it be dangerous?” She asks.

Helisma knows why she had been made Tranquil. She was a danger to herself and others.

“To you, maybe,” Seeker answers. “More to you than the rest of us. We have enough Templars around to prevent the worst and we would neutralize the threat.”

Helisma doesn’t want to die, and she has work to do.

“Would it be useful?” She asks.

“Yes,” Seeker answers. “It would be useful to many people, and it could change and save many lives. We want to give you a choice. We will make the same offer to every Tranquil. It is not a one-time offer. You can refuse now and then change your mind and ask for reversal. Maybe we will have more data to explain the process, and more assuring outcomes. Someone will want to go first.”

If it’s useful, why wouldn’t Helisma go first?

“Will someone feed the cat if I am not able and lets it out of my bedroom in the morning?” Helisma asks.

They all stare at her as the Inquisitor nods.

* * *

“I should be here tomorrow morning,” Helisma tells the cat in the evening, although she doesn’t know why, since it cannot understand her speech. “But if I am not here tomorrow, someone will feed you and let you out.”

The cat settles itself on Helisma’s stomach. It has grown in the last months, and now the weight presses on Helisma’s skin, but it is soft and warm, like a pillow.

The cat spends every night here. It has become a habit, for the cat, and for Helisma.

Helisma doesn’t know what will happen after the ritual, and as a creature of habit, she doesn’t like it.

* * *

Helisma doesn’t remember much of the day she became Tranquil, but she recalls that the circumstances were similar, with the Templars all around, and her, standing in the middle of the room.

Nothing happens now, and then there is a burst, and thousands of lights, and then—

**_Darkness._ **

* * *

The first thing Helisma feels is the pain in her back, and how bloody uncomfortable the damn mattress is, way too thin, allowing the planks below to poke her spine.

It hurts. Everything hurts, every fiber of her being hurts, and it is so unnerving, so disturbing.

Helisma opens her eyes and sits down.

Everything feels wrong, it feels too much, it feels alive, as if her body was lit in fire and tossed into a snow, and if her mind was being pierced by hundreds, no, thousands; thousands of thoughts and images.

It’s too much, it’s all at once, and yet Helisma cannot breathe, she cannot let out any sound at all, no matter how small.

The memories return, all of them, and all the suppressed and delayed emotions flood her heart that erupts with fury and with heartbreak and with relief and with gratitude because even the infirmary seems like a different world now, and the sun shines bright trough the windows, and the sight of leaves moving in the wind makes her want to laugh and cry, and the birds are singing—

“You’re awake,” Seeker says, standing in the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

How is she feeling? How can anyone ask such a question? How is she supposed to find words now that there are so many to use, and yet none of them can adequately portray the turmoil inside?

The magic flows through her fingers like a force of nature, like a river flooding after the winter snows, like an avalanche, like lighting that will cause a massive fire, except that Helisma can harness it all.

How is she feeling? The tears well in her eyes and then escape, and Helisma wants to scream, she wants to shout to the heavens, she wants to scream at the Seeker and at the world and at everyone in it and then she wants to sings and taste food, and—

“Where’s my cat?” She asks, crying so hard that the breath stops in her throat. “Where’s my cat? Did someone feed my cat? Where’s my cat?”

“I don’t know,” Seeker responds, taken aback.

“I need to find my cat,” Helisma gets up in one swift motion. “You promised! You promised someone would take care of my cat, and now she must be so worried and I must go! I must go now! I want to go to my bedroom!”

Seeker doesn’t stop her, and she doesn’t let anyone else stop Helisma as walks out barefoot, loses her balance, regains it and then runs towards the Tower, towards her bedroom, when her cat, her own cat, awaits her.

Plenty of people stare as she’s running through the Skyhold grounds with that blighted mark on her forehead, crying in earnest, but Helisma doesn’t care, she doesn’t care about any of that now, because she wants to hold the only creature she loves that for sure loves her in return, and that is her own red tabby cat.

“Cat!” Helisma screams, opening the door to the bedroom, but the cat isn’t there.

They must have listened, they must have let the cat out.

“Cat!” Helisma shouts, sobbing and searching in frenzy. “Cat! Please! It’s me! Cat!”

The sun is so bright and so beautiful, and the grounds are so large that Helisma doesn’t know where to begin her search, and her mind doesn’t quiet down, loud and turbulent and full of sparks and it’s too much and not enough and all Helisma wants is to hold and hug the cat, and to feel its softest velvety fur, and to hear the cat purr in happiness, and to name it, to finally name it as she should have named it all those months ago.

“Cat!” Helisma cries, and Seeker Pentaghast, who must have followed her, calls out for the cat as well.

The meow sounds like the most jubilant music to Helisma’s ears, and then her cat appears on the wall, and jumps down so gracefully, and walks towards Helisma as if it was any other day, as if nothing changed, and is she hasn’t changed, and if she has always been Helisma, Tranquil or not, silenced or not, damaged or not, and Helisma gets on her knees, and pets her cat, crying in earnest as the crowd gathers around before Seeker orders them to disperse.

It is the most beautiful cat in the world, Helisma decides. There has never been a more gorgeous shade of copper and gold fur, and there have never been more striking yellowy green eyes, and there has never been the sweeter pink nose and the softer paws.

Oh, Helisma’s heart is full, so full that it bursts and explodes, and yet by some miracle, perhaps thanks to her cat, it remains whole.

Helisma remembers why she loves animals, why she has always loved them since her earliest days growing up at the farm surrounded by them, and she remembers how hard it had been in the Circle not being able to have any contact with them, but now, she has her own cat, her cat that has chosen Helisma’s room for a home, and chosen Helisma, too.

Her crying tempers, her breathing steadies. The fury is still there, and so is every other emotion imaginable, but above all of them, there is love, and maybe there’s even hope, and curiosity for the future.

“Curiosity,” Helisma decides, whispering to her cat. “That is a good name for you.”

* * *

Helisma hates research. It’s dull, and boring, and she is not organized at all, as it turns out, and it reminds her of Tranquility, and Helisma doesn’t want to sit in a little room for hours ever again, she wants to be outside in the sun, and she wants to learn new things, and work with the animals, and use her magic to heal them, just like the infirmary uses magic to heal people. Animals need healers, too.

Helisma hates a lot more than research. She hates sitting for too long, and she hates coffee not sweet enough, and she hates cookies with raisins. Oh, now that she feels, Helisma hates plenty of things, big and small.

She loves plenty of things, too, from cinnamon rolls to singing to Curiosity, her cat, and curiosity of all little things, because research might be dull, but knowledge! Ah, knowledge is delicious and Helisma has plenty of it at her disposal. Everything she has learned since becoming Tranquil is now hers to use and build upon, not as a mindless servant, but as someone who has passion, who loves, who wants to do more and know more and give out more. 

Sometimes the nights are so dark that they become torture and Helisma lies in silence, choking on her tears and petting Curiosity. Sometimes the days are so bright that Helisma sings to herself, no matter how much it annoys others.

There are plenty of wounds on her heart and on her mind. There is an ocean of betrayal, an ocean on injustice in what has done to her, by cruel people, by benevolent people, by good people, too.

They have stolen from her. Her body, her mind, her beauty, her joy, her ability, her talents, her thirst for life, her love, her curiosity.

But it came back, and maybe some of it has always tried to find its way out of the cage of Tranquility.

After all, Helisma has always remembered being fond of animals; she just couldn’t remember why.

“You’ve always known, didn’t you?” Helisma whispers, running her fingers through the softest fur of one now-large and very spoiled red tabby cat.

**Author's Note:**

> I am always grateful for kudos and for the comments.


End file.
